The Early Days of Newt Scamander
by Annoyingly Anonymous
Summary: Newt Scamander is an antisocial, depressed 11 year old when he starts Hogwarts. His love of beasts has already been brought about and the wonderous new place he's been accepted into has so many oddities that he fits right in. Maybe this is where he belongs. TRIGGER WARNING but unless I end up writing something I class as M the rating will stay T unless people say it shouldn't be.
1. The place named Home

**Before I even start I would like to express the want for a beta reader or helpful criticism to make this story better and go over my mistakes and the reason for a**

 **TRIGGER WARNING: from what I saw in the film Newt is nervous, self-conscious and apart from people in general. He only had the picture of his best friend, and they hadn't** **talked for many years. This led onto my brain scrambling it up and deciding that Newt was abused as a child. Another part of the movie (when they were told to pay more than the few gold coins Newt put out) made me think about why Newt seemed so scared about having to pay more. In this fanfiction there will be a point where Newt has to pay for something with his body and it could end up like sexual assault so I just want to be careful.**

 **I'll try to out trigger warnings out at the beginning of each chapter where they're needed.**

 **I've tried to piece together bits of Newt's past to create this fiction and if I've got anything wrong please tell me. If I've done it purposefully I'll try to tell you but this will hopefully be mainly about Newt's time at school and lead onto his character in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (the film). Unfortunately I haven't read the book.**

 **So here's my summary, some of which I've made up and some of which I've gained from websites:**

 **Newton Artemis Fido Scamander was born in 1897 and attended Hogwarts from 1908. He met Leta Lestrange therin, possibly in his House of Hufflepuff although history- or future- would determine that she was a Slytherin. She is interested in magical beasts as well and it's her fault that Newt was expelled.**

 **Newt's brother is a widely known Auror named Theseus. His nickname is Theo and he excells at everything. He is three years ahead of Newt and was put in Gryffindor.**

 **His mother is a Hippogriff breeder who inspired Newt to become a magizoologist after her love of magical beasts passed onto him.**

 **His favourite magical creature is Pickett, the clingy Bowtruckle who, is this, he met alongside the others in his time at school and they formed a relationship that has lasted for years. This relationship was helped along by Newt's awkwardness around humans and needing for companionship.**

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 _ **TRIGGER WARNING**_

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Newton Artemis Fido Scamander was the younger brother to Theseus Scamander. That's what everyone called him; "Theseus's younger brother", "Theseus's sibling." "Theo's broken brother." It hurt. It hurt more than anyone realised, especially his mother and brother. That was the worst part about it if he were being honest, the fact that he couldn't hate Theo because Theo was a kind, loyal, gentle person. From the very beginning you could see he was destined for great things and no one wasted an instant in telling him that. Newt was just his odd brother, the failure to Theo's successes, the rain to his sunshine.

Newt hated it.

He hated each part of his childhood with differing amounts of passion. He'd hated his father because the man had hated him and had taken out all of his anger on Newt. Numerous scars on mind and body could prove that. He hated his father's death because that made him even more distant and shy because now he wasn't even forced to attend gatherings. He hated being introduced to the Hippogriffs because that made him even more unusual but he couldn't tear himself away. He hated his mother for not raising him into what Theo is. He hated himself for… everything.

What wasn't there to hate?

He was Theo's new model but broken beyond repair and tarnished without a hope of being polished. He was a socially anxious guy who hid behind his love for the beasts that everyone else hated. And he did nothing to protect himself. Theo's younger rages had seen to it that Newt wouldn't back down easily but at the same time wouldn't defend himself. He wasn't the type of material that anyone would consider for anything.

When Theo was chosen for Hogwarts Newt was jealous. His eight-year old mind was still susceptible to the grandeur that others wove with their words and all Mother's friends and Father's old ones and the polite society were coming in and telling Theo how amazing he was for getting in. Theo, at eleven, had finished his childhood tantrums three years ago and was quite grown up now. He took all of the compliments in good grace and humour and the fan club left being even more in love with him than before. Yet they only left after letting Newt hear the barbed words they said about him.

The ball thrown for Theo's success lasted an entire night after starting at seven P.M. Newt could only endure three hours of it. Three hours of belittling comments and glares and refused proposals to dance that his Mother paid no attention to for fear of tarnishing her own reputation. Theo had been told to do so as well.

When they had been very young Theo had seen Father beating Newt multiple times. Eventually the courage and kindness that built up to land him in Gryffindor made Theo try to step in and save Newt. Father had grown enraged that his favourite son would actually protect the other and, after taking Theo to another room and locking him in whilst giving Newt the idea of the ordeal being over, he returned and gave the youngster the first beating where he was barely conscious afterwards. That day was firmly stuck in Newt's mind as it had been the catalyst for his father realising that he could beat Newt within an inch of his life and it would be okay.

When Father died a year after that Newt didn't know what to do. His mind was already trained to think that he deserved pain, and the discomfort in his mother and brother's eyes from being around him too long added to that. He could only find solace in the Hippogriff's his mother bred. Starling was his favourite. Newt had helped care for the Hippogriff's for three months before his best friend was born. The orphaned grey-speckled beast had hatched in Newt's company and the two bonded in a short space of time. Newt oversaw the Hippogriff's growth and raising and the youngster became one of the largest Hippogriff's that his mother had ever seen because of all the extra care. They went out on midnight flights and Newt started spending his days with Starling. His love for the beasts grew and he might have even followed in his mother's breeder footsteps if she hadn't sold him.

Newt had been sick that particular weekend. His mother had thought it to be the perfect time to sell the most spectacular beast she had bred for decades. Her buyer, a handsome, wealthy man, was interested in them and looked forwards to being able to study and maybe even ride a prime specimen. Neither of them had accounted for Newt sleeping in the curve of its body.

When they got down to its pen she saw that it was asleep and whistled. The Hippogriff's opened its eyes and raised its head warningly but didn't rise. No matter what sound she made it didn't get up of calm down, it only showed them threatening signals. Mrs Scamander had no idea what was going on until the prospective buyer revealed the slightly unnatural curve of its wing. The curve that was now moving. Tousled fair hair and hazel-ish eyes set in a wan face appeared from behind the curve of the Hippogriff's wing and Mrs Scamander realised that it had been an even bigger mistake to try and remove the Hippogriff when he was sick for the pure reason that he had come to find it whenever he was feeling upset and that if he was sick he would try to not leave its side.

Mrs Scamander was not the kind of woman to hit someone but she was the kind to berate them with a barrage of words and she did. She wasn't cruel to her son, not yet, but her unkindness was enough to set the sickly seven-year old onto Starling's back and away. It was the first time anyone had ever seen Newt fly the beast and it would also be the last. When the two finally returned home the buyer had already expressed his disbelief at how tame the Hippogriff was and how much he'd pay for it. Newt went to sleep beside the beast again that night but never finished. In the middle of the night Mrs Scamander came down with helpers and catching equipment and bridled Starling before loading him up in a trailer. Both the beast and the boy were crying, and each for the other. Newt only stopped fighting for his friend when Theo decided to knock him out and that enraged Starling only more but also distracted him, letting the team shove him into the trailer and away to his new home. He'd never be able to find his way back because he was hooked so couldn't see and Hippogriff's had never had the knack of navigating on the earth.

The separation had proved fatal to Newt. Fifteen months since he had been badly injured, his best friend taken and the betrayal of his mother led him to seek what he'd been trying to prevent for over a year. Pain. Everyone at that time had table-daggers to use for cutting meat. Newt used it for that too, only his way was slightly different. Most people wouldn't eat the sort of meat he was cutting of course, that would be cannibalism. Yet Newt derived a sick sort of pleasure from the pain. As he watched the blood arch up through his skin to well at the surface as he carved in again and again the numbness he felt intensified until he couldn't feel anything at all. Nothing. Not even guilt and anger, the two main emotions in his life since that first beating.

It became addictive. The scars that covered his arms soon led to his hips as well. When he was particularly broken he used the blade to create animal-like wounds on himself that, if seen, could be easily explained, yet they hurt more and he was so glad about that. By the time he was eleven he was covered in scars that no one had ever seen and had no chance of catching up with the brother that was three years, hundreds of housepoints, many letters of commendations and a quidditch team ahead of him.

Newt hadn't even expected to get into Hogwarts. His mother hadn't bothered to buy him a wand and his brother had taken to sending back sweets and photos of everything because he never expected Newt to come and experience them for himself. When the letter finally came Mrs Scamander even wrote to make sure that it wasn't a mistake.

It wasn't.

For the first time in his life Newt was wanted by something, not only something but the most prestigious school in the world!

He put the blade away, let his mother buy him new books and an excellent broomstick (because your brother's old books are completely horrendous and no one will say the Scamander house is shabby! And who knows, maybe you'll be good at flying. You certainly used to be.) She also bought him an owl (her name's Saul, young master, and she will be your companion for many years if you're kind to her.) At the end of the trip, when all his robes and equipment were bought and his term-to-term allowance set out, his mother finally took him to the wandshop.

Newt had read about Ollivander's. It was supposedly the best shop to buy wands from in existence- at the moment at least- and ever since Theo had gotten his wand but refused to tell Newt was it was made from he'd been trying to guess what his brother had got.

Now he was trying to guess what he'd get.

He'd never have expected his mother to already have set one aside for him.

"It's specially commissioned just for you!" She told him just before she left to find him a case in which he'd need to pack all of his clothes and equipment. "One of your father's inventions."

Then she was gone and Newt was alone in a shop with a crude bone wand in front of him. It wasn't right. This couldn't be his. Even standing near it felt wrong, felt like the screams of multiple beasts dying was ringing in his ears.

He wouldn't be able to cast a simple charm with this, nevermind get through Hogwarts! Yet he had no choice it seemed.

Taking a deep breath, Newt picked up the wand. And screamed. It felt like his nerves were being ripped from his skin, like his hair was being torn from his skull and skin. Like he was suffering the same death as the beasts.

"Stop!" The sharp voice barely pierced the cacophony of roars and shrieks and dying screams. "Stop!" It was only once the wand was wrestled out of his hand and thrown into its case that Newt could see again. A wizened old man with greying hair stood in front him him angrily, spectacled eyes peering curiously at him.

"What on earth were you doing?!"

Newt started crying.

After seeing the small eleven-year old's face crumple the man's first order of business was to shoo all of the curious passers-by out of the shop and to fetch Newt a blanket and a hot drink. It was only after doing so that he finally agreed to stop and listen to Newt's explanation, and by that time the boy's throat was hoarse and his eyes itchy with dried tears. He was on the verge of a migraine and his ears were still ringing, his skin still stinging. He didn't particularly want to talk abiut it either. The knowledge that it was his mother, the person he should love and trust most in the world, that had made a wand that would plunge him into that helholr wherein he would have gone mad destroyed him. Luckily the man seemed to realise that and started talking himself.

"First of all, never, ever pick up a wand that has not got an owner unless a wand master has said so, and even then you should only do so if the owner says to freely or the master holds it first." The old man lectured.

"Secondly, what were you doing with that? Did you not see the sign?" Newt had seen the sign. It had labelled the wand as his.

"It's for me sir," he swallowed.

"The wand was made for me." Newt had no idea why, or even how his father had made such an awful thing but he'd not handle it. Even if it meant not going to Hogwarts he'd never pick it up again. And so he told the man- Ollivander he presumed, that. Wirey grey hair flounced as the man nodded in agreement.

"If you ever pick up such a thing again I'll break it, then you, myself." He promised.

"Such a thing is not suited to sensitive souls, especially not youngsters and even less so ones that enjoy beasts. Only a rare, cruel person would want such a thing. I though you may take after your father, that terrible man. Only through that sort of thinking could I imagine you wanting it." He stopped for a moment before starting again.

"But your father's dead, excuse my callous words, so whoever sent that wand to me with instructions to keep safe for you, and who brought you here before running off so they didn't have to endure your screaming it is the one. Who are they, Newt? Who did this to you?" Newt glanced down. Who indeed. Who indeed apart from the mother that despised him for not being a perfect second son and protégée yet couldn't admit so.

"No one." He whispered. "It was my own fault. I see that now." The man didn't look as if he believed him, who would? He still accepted the lie though, and he still got up and found a piece of paper before starting to write a letter.

"Well then, I'll just write a note about how your wand isn't to be opened before Hogwarts starts. You do have to obey that though." Newt looked up to find the man smiling at him.

"Can't have anyone finding out that the wand you were supposed to have isn't the one in the box can we?"

The old man at Ollivander's was the first person Newt learnt to genuinely like. He was also the first person who showed the boy kindness.

"Now, boy, what do you like, hmm?" He said as he started hustling about.

"Maybe… a unicorn core and elm?" He handed Newt a long wand of medium coloured wood but with a subtle sheen. It felt comfortable but… Newt gave it a shake and a glowing light shot out before turning into a shrill whistle climbing higher and higher until it shattered the lamp bulbs. Not for him then.

"Not for you then." The man said as he took the wand away.

"But closer. Much closer than the atrocity you first tried. Maybe the same type of thing but kinder. Bones animals have willingly given and- hmm." He quickly set out a row of wands in front of Newt.

"Tell me what feels good about each of these wands. Quick now, before your mother comes back."

Newt startled at sudden knowledge the old man possessed about his wand situation but did what he'd asked, because it was asking not commanding. It wasn't as if he couldn't say no. That made him more willing to do it.

"Um, it feels warm and good? The inside of it seems to… want to help?" He said about the first one.

"It's helpful but will do no wrong. It wants to help me." He said about the second.

"It's ready to do whatever it needs to as long as it protects me," he discovered about the third.

The list went on and on until he reached the last wand. You going that one gave him a peculiar sense of otherness.

"I…" Newt shut his eyes so he could think. "It's- it's different to all the others. Not just because they're all different but because this one is not of this place. I don't know where it's from but… not here. It's comfortable but not right." He tried to explain.

Ollivander gathered up all of his wands and put them to the side of the desk just before Mrs Scamander walked in.

"Newt dear, has your wand testing already finished?" She asked. Both boy and man could see that she wasn't even trying to control her face, the bored, almost petulant look on her face made Newt want to just take the bone wand and go.

"It is," Ollivander butted in, "but he won't be taking the wand with him. I'll send it to Hogwarts as soon as I've finished modifying it and the boy will have it quickly after he starts.

Newt's mother snapped her head round to look at him.

"Modifying? Adjustment? Newt did you _ask_ for this to happen? You know your father made that wand just for you, he spent a lot of time and care on that and you've asked for it to be _modified?_ " Newt scampered back as he saw her hand twitch, numerous amounts of blows had taught him to get out of range as soon as danger was a possibility.

The old man, thankfully, quickly intervened.

"Ah, no, Mrs Scamander." He smiled at her.

"It's through no fault of your son's that I'm changing it a little, it's through the way that it needs a bit less elm so the power can flow free more easily." He winked after glancing slyly at Newt but, as the two fair-haired Scamanders tunprned out of the shop, he threw Newt another, more easy wink full of companionship.

Newt knew then that he would be alright, that his wand wouldn't be was it was supposed to be but something to do with the many he had held.

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 **So… the first chapter is finished. What do you guys think?**

 **(I will make the chapters longer I promise)**


	2. Diagon Alley

**Thanks to all the guests and users that have left such lovely reviews! I'll answer each one of you down below.**

 **This chapter is quite a bit shorter, and that's completely my fault. I'll try to make the next one longer but we'll see how it goes.**

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 **TRIGGER WARNING: abuse.**

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As soon as they walked out of the shop, Newt knew that it was not going to be okay. The signals his mother were sending out were furtive and wary, furious and personal. No one would come close to someone they didn't know well in that state.

His tawny hair rustled in a faint breeze as he twisted around for a second. Newt had only just noticed that none of his newly-bought belongings were trailing behind them. His mother had likely already sent them back to the house. It was good planning on her part, he supposed. Preparing the new equipments' travel back gave her a valid reason for leaving him alone in the shop with that retched wand.

Newt had no qualms about blaming his mother for the terrible thing; she would have been the one to send it there and she would have known what it would do to him. Newt had always reacted badly or had bad experiences in the past with fragments of bone from beasts lying around the house, with their heads lining the hallways in the manor, with the beasts his father had brought home to experiment on. Each time he'd touched or even been near them he had got a terrible headache at best.

He'd retched when he had to touch some of them. None of the beasts his father had caught and killed had died peacefully. It seemed that the ones that had been sacrificed for the gruesome power of the wand that had been made for him had died worse than most of the beasts lining his house. Combined they had made him good for nothing but screaming, a purely physical reaction to his pain. Each one by itself would probably have made him sick. Combining the agony had made it so strong Newt couldn't even do that. If the old man hadn't been there… he wouldn't even spectate on that thought. It was too awful to think upon.

He couldn't believe that so many beasts had suffered uselessly for him. If he could use the wand then it would have at least been for a cause but instead that integrated pain would have been caused for nothing and those poor beasts would be dead or maimed uselessly. It almost inspired him to turn back into the shop and say that he _would_ have the wand, no matter _how_ awful it was.

But he couldn't, he knew that. He knew that he could never would it. Newt Scamander would never hold anything that would cause pain to another beast in his life unless it was impossible or would cause worse events to happen if he did not.

" _I swear so,"_ he whispered gently. His mother didn't notice but the vow was heard all the same and was acknowledged by the realm of Magic. If Newt could feel the tremors through the earth, the excitement that befell all the creatures he would he delighted. Instead he could only think upon his life.

 _Worrying only makes the pain double,_ he remembered. He couldn't remember who had told him that, it was too far gone and he'd paid little notice at the time but the motto had stayed with him. Worrying about what might happen or what had happened or even what was happening that second would only increase the pain if it turned out badly. You had to live in the moment. So Newt did so.

Ollivander's was becoming more and more distant and he wished himself back there. The rich black paint covering the little shop was a sharp contrast to the white-painted name on its front and sign. It was a respectable establishment, and Newt was sure he'd be happier living there than at home. He was also sure that he'd be allowed to, if not by his mother then at least by Ollivander and he was who counted.

It would never happen though, Newt knew that. He'd thought about running away so many times before that he couldn't help but know when a plan was doomed to fail. This was one of those times.

Living at Ollivander's would never work for a numerous about of reasons and Newt carefully listed them as he was dragged along the streets of Diagon Alley.

Firstly, too many people knew him if not by sight then by name. His mother would never let him go and he'd be caught very quickly and be back in a worse situation than before. Secondly, he'd have to train to be a wand maker with Ollivander. Newt wouldn't be able to deal with the pain emitting from some of the wands and would protest against the usage of all beasts that had died for them. He wouldn't sell, or even buy wands made from pain-filled products.

Thirdly he needed an education. He'd have to go to Hogwarts no matter what and he'd live there as much as possible anyway so what would be the point of running away now. All of his new equipment was at his house, and his new wand would be sent to Hogwarts to await his arrival. There would be no point.

The benefits to running away were few and weak compared to his reasons not to. He would be happier there but he would be at Hogwarts most of the year anyway. He would be safe but, again, he would love at Hogwarts mostly anyway and when his mother finally found where he was hiding he'd cause the old man trouble as well as finally eliciting a beating from his mother herself.

There was no point.

Newt's mother sported carefully manicured nails that she had charmed to be hard and versatile. They were painted a pale rose at the moment and matched the bleached olive of his skin tone as it lost circulation to the wrist. The nails seemed almost like an extension if his body as they rose out of it, providing a sharp relief to the ricocheting around his skull that the pain-filled voices had caused, and leaving marks that would stay for days. The tiny half-moons were likely already bleeding; Newt would be surprised if they didn't scar from what he could feel.

He hadn't noticed the screams still inside his skull until leaving the shop because it had been oddly quiet inside and the old man hadn't sported more than a gentle, calming tone. His mother wasn't speaking right now but the force of her anger was pulsing out at Newt in waves that were making him stumble.

 _Good thing the streets are so well kept,_ Newt thought. The clean flagstones and polished brick of the passageways he was being dragged down nearly reflected his image back at him. The ebony bricks actually did, though in a distorted manner.

He could tell where they were going now. Only one thing was down this passage, the fastest way home. Floo powder fireplaces. He wouldn't be getting that ice cream that his mother had suggested then, and he supposed he'd get something worse instead.

"Go!" Mrs Scamander snapped at her son as he hesitated. Newt knew that as soon as they were home he'd be in for the worst scolding of his life. He didn't want to go. He had to. He had to go first too, as his mother was indicating. She was probably concerned he'd run off if she went through first. She was right, he would have tried if he'd had the chance, but that plan had failed before it began, so Newt resolved to try and get away from her inside as soon as he stepped through and into the house.

His plan would have worked if it weren't for Mrs Scamander stepping through the fire almost an instant after Newt was gone and following him.

Newt's mother's neatly woven features were being pulled together by harsh lines on her brow and around her mouth. He expression transformed from mildly disapproving into thunderous rage as she appeared and Newt couldn't help but flinch as she reached for him.

It was probably the worst thing he could've done.

" _Flinch?_ " She looked utterly despised. "Flinch? At me? Your own _mother_?" Her face transformed from carefully arranged features into a mess of pale blotches and freckles.

"You impertinent little freak." Newt restrained himself from cowering but couldn't look at her either. The berating was too much like what he'd got from his father.

Her next words stopped his heart, but he couldn't decided whether they were good or bad.

"Don't come back unless you have to, you hear me? Send me affirmation forms and tell me how your grades are. Don't be a failure. You will do well or you will come home. Is that clear?"

Newt nodded quickly.

"Of course, Mother." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, already picking up on the tricks that beasts knew like avoiding direct eye contact. That provoked challenge, and Newt isn't a challenger. He's polite as well. If his mother were a Hippogriff he'd be bowing and backing away. As it was, Newt was going to wait here until she dismissed him or left. The knowledge of what his father had done to him would always be fresh in his mind, and Newt wasn't certain he would be able to handle his mother becoming abusive as well.

"If something goes wrong, anything at all, you'll be returning. Appearances are everything, Newton, and if you can't put up a respectable façade I will do something about it."

"I will do my best, Mother." Her face became a mask again and he closed his eyes, certain he had said something wrong. Maybe his tone of voice was off? Instead he heard a brief tapping as she walked away on high black heels, her long coat sweeping behind her to give the shining wooden floor an extra polish.

Once she was gone Newt sighed in relief. His whole body relaxed from the stiff, upright posture he adapted into around his parents- parent now. He would never feel his father's blows again, and his mother had not hit him yet. Maybe he was finally free.

Newt's grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. Maybe he'd finally be away from all the pain and harassment, maybe his inner self loathing would finally go! He tipped his head back and spun around at the feeling of euphoria. Maybe- the tapping was returning and Newt lowered his arms as he hid his smile. When his mother finally walked back around the corner he had run and seated himself on one of the chaises lining the hallway. Dim chandeliers lent wan shadows to his face. It was easy to navigate by yet too dim to read by, just like the hostess wanted. Right now her masterful ploy was being used for the wrong thing. Instead of making visitors wait on her it was giving her son expressions he did not have because the shadows danced across his face wrong. Newt's mother became angry at him and her ire only rose when she saw he would not look at her properly.

" _Stop it!_ " She hissed. "Stop _doing_ that! Do you _want_ people to assume you have problems?"

Newt tried to back away from her. In his experience a specimen as angry as this would rarely calm down and the best approach was to leave it for another day. Somehow the fact that this wasn't a specimen but his own mother got lost in the complexities of his terrified brain. The knowledge of just what she was was caught in its throes. His understanding that she would not agree with him backing off was ridden and overtaken by fear that she would hit him.

Mrs Scamander had never been one to bloody her hands.

The days when she had been purely kind had long since passed. Her husband had slowly wrangled each piece of goodness out of her and left them until they blackened, dead things that could act like her old shine but could never hold up for long. Her days as a Hufflepuff were distant memories, her love of Hippogriffs was was of the only things she retained from them. Her dislike of hurting people was another, but that only spread as far as not actively using her hands to hurt people now. Using her magic to do so was another matter entirely.

" _Crucio."_ The pain was sudden and blinding. Newt didn't feel his legs give way, of the impact of the hard wooden floor. He didn't see the red light of his mother's wand, he didn't notice the horror in her eyes that stopped her from continuing the curse for more than half a minute. He didn't notice the horror hardening into hatred as the witch looked down on her son, a pain-wracked ball of terror, and wanted to spit on him.

"If you fail me in any way," she said slowly. "This will be your punishment."

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 **Soo? Is it good enough? Unluckily I couldn't send it to a beta to check over so I hope it's alright!**

 **Anyway, onto the replies. (Alhough I must say to all of you that when I got each and every one of these reviews I was so terrified. I had to compose myself before looking at each one just incase it was nasty but you have all been so supportive and kind so thank you all so, so much.**

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 **Guest- thank yoouuu!**

 **Ice- yes, I can see that. That's actually a really good idea and I think I might use it later on. Maybe I can sort of redeem Theseus throughout Newt's time at school then then bam that shock onto him and send Newt running all the way to Africa or something. It could fit in. **

**Newt-** **thank you so much for your kind words.**

 **not-leaving 394** **\- ahh, thank you so much! I hope this chapter meets your expectations as well!**

 **Magik458-** **I'm glad that I could write what you're looking for and that you think it could have a great plot line! If I do something that you feel is too off then don't hesitate to tell me!**

 **jes** **s** **chan \- thank you! Yes, Leta will appear here at some point! And don't worry, your writing is perfectly fine and it's great that you know another language at all!**

 **Guest- I're written more!**

 **Guest \- as you can probably tell, the answer to that is yes :)**

 **Guest \- aha, I am don't worry. I hope it continues to live up to your ideals!**


	3. Platform 9 34

**It's been ages, I know. I apologise. I hope this makes up for it. I've been meandering my way through writing short bits of many stories because I haven't had the motivation to write for quite a while, but the last two nights I've picked this chapter up from around 1,000 words to 2,000 - and I know it's still not that many but it's a start. And a filler chapter. Because next chapter will have to include the journey and probably the sorting and everything, right?!**

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 **WARNING: mild self harm, panic attack**

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"Excuse me?" Newt's eyes were downcast as he spoke to the official that was helping people. The man turned towards him with a sympathetic smile. It was obvious that he was lost or had been left behind by a guardian, and for a child that looked to be around eight that was severely worrying. if this had been a less busy day he may have asked the child to wait with him until his parents appeared or to go up to the ticket desks. As it was, though he may be sympathetic he was also hassled and wanted to be rid of the child as soon as possible.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"Yes; please." The boy's large hazel eyes flickered upwards for a second before swiftly downturning again. They looked to be watering. The official felt bad for what was going to be a quick dismissal before ridding his mind of the emotion. If he was generous in helping people with their problems he'd never get anything done. Anyway, it wasn't as if he were likely to be hurt in the crowds of a train station and with the beastly bird in the cage protecting him. The creature's own eyes had turned to meet the boy's through the bars of its cage.

Who sent a kid to a train station alone with a massive bird? He knew there was a school that included the creatures but those children always had at least one parent with them. They also gained a sibling or two that went to the same school before they graduated. He was shaken from his thoughts by the child's small voice, almost drowned out by the surging voices of the hubbub.

"Do you know where Platform 9 ¾ is please?"

The man was so absorbed in looking after the youngster and checking that nothing was happening around them that for a second he didn't register what had been said.

"Of course. It's right down- wait." He noticed. "What did you say?" Was a joke being played on him? Send a young, nervous child to ask him a ridiculous question that'd make him look stupid? Well, it wouldn't work. He was not going to be made into a joke. His friends and the other officials knew that this day was hard, and he would not be played a fool when he had so many other things on his mind.

"There is no Platform 9 ¾." the officer deadpanned. "Who put you up to this?" Maybe Archie or Harry, he thought. Both of the braggarts would find this funny even though it was insensitive. They also both had enough money to hire a street urchin, clothe him and buy him some empty cases and a bird. He wondered how they'd found the boy though, he was a remarkably good actor although that could just be because he was used to stealing after a pity show.

The tears filling the boy's eyes and making them a watery green seemed real, pulling furrows onto the lad's face. It was either a good act or- the official faked a snort. He couldn't seem weak, but if this kid had been tricked into believing that there actually was a Platform 9 ¾, _he_ was being cruel.

"You're going to have to do better than that, boy." The official snarked. If Harry didn't laugh and tease him about this later he was going to feel awful. Tears were running out of the corners of the youngster's eyes now. He seemed to be curling in on himself, shoulders hunching and eyes removing themselves once more to the floor. He was shuffling away slowly but there was still no one there to collect him. His gaze flicked up occasionally to peer around and make sure he wasn't going to back into anyone else. The official noticed that the bird in the cage was getting restless as the boy seemed to become more distressed. It shrieked once, a shrill scream that paused the chatter around them for a moment before it started back up when everyone confirmed an official of the law was taking it in hand. The man decided to rid himself of the boy before he because more of a nuisance and troubled.

"Oh, hush. We both know that you're putting on an act, boy. Now, Platform 9 is just down that way if you want it, but just get out of my sight." His tone was harsh and unforgiving, a clear dismissal. The boy nodded hastily and manouvered the trolley around before walking away, his thin shoulders hunched and his strides long. It was the self-conscious walk of someone who wanted to disappear but was trying to look strong. The owl on the trolley had turned its head to peer back at him with a ferocious yellow gaze. It was unnerving.

The official turned to let him go then stopped. It might sound harsh but the child needed a warning at least.

"Oh, and boy!" He called. The youngster halted and looked back. The official smiled languidly at him. Harry wouldn't be able to laugh at him now. "If your owl causes problems the train line will have to take it away."

Newt choked in a gasp and started walking as swiftly as his legs could carry him. The official had been so kind at first, and then had reverted into… that. A cruel, smirking… Newt didn't know what but he had been so _cruel._ He felt tears selling up again and shook his head to try and dislodge them. Alden crooned at the boy as she felt the tremors wrecking down his arms and into the trolley. She had only been with him for a short time yet already had the knowledge all animals instinctively gain for the character of a human, and she knew that her human was good. He was good, but he was pain filled. She had to be kind to this one. She would be kind for she was only alive because he had rescued her. They were going to put her down, she knew. She wasn't good for a breeding bird and she had too much curiosity to be a good messenger bird. She kept flying off on a quest instead of going straight from place to place. The boy had stopped them, had explained that he needed an owl anyway and had swapped his own owl, a beautiful tawny, for her. Saul, that was the name of the other owl. They had called to each other in the Owlery. They have become as close to friends as the individual predators could. There were no hard feelings between them.

He brushed a fingertip through the bars of her cage and rubbed her beak gently, a show of affection he knew she liked. Alden rubbed herself against his gentle hands, showing her appreciation. Her smooth white feathers brushed against his hand with a downy softness that smoothed his racing pulse slightly.

Newt felt an uncertain smile tug at one corner of his mouth.

" _Thank you."_ He whispered to her. He wasn't certain how much she understood but he knew that she was intelligent. It also never hurt to be polite.

The short, grateful, respite didn't last long. It was already 10.30 am and Newt hadn't seen anybody else. No other wizards at least. He supposed they had already arrived at the train, were late or he'd missed them all. But he had to find the way in swiftly, he just had to. He didn't know what his Mother would do if he didn't even get to Hogwarts. If he didn't even make it to the platform.

If only Theo were here to help him find his way. It was unfortunate that the first time Newt was ever going to Hogwarts was when Theo had gone to stay at a friend's house for first time in the last couple of weeks before school began, and it was even more unfortunate that the friend lived near Hogsmeade so neither were catching the train.

It also meant that Newt was all alone in the suffocating atmosphere of the busy train station. His throat was constricting from the fumes pumping out. The smell was making him gag and the noise was deafening and irritating and he was being so irrational, he knew that, but he couldn't help it. His senses were being overloaded and everything was _too bright, too loud, too much_ all at once.

He was still standing up, located somewhere near the Platform 9 opening, but his vision was going. Black spots danced in the way of his sight and his breath was rasping heavily through his lungs. He was trembling but but had no desire to do anything but move. The official that had besmirched him earlier occasionally glimpsed the youngster through the hordes of people, but with the day beginning his attention was mostly focused on helping the knowledgeable lost. Newt could see that, see the occasional glances flicked his way as he paced. Alden called to him in a low croon but even the thought of her feathers now made him panic. _Toomuchtoomuchtoomuch._ He just needed somewhere quiet and he'd be fine. He raked his nails against his wrist. Pain helped focus him, and he needed to focus. Stop being so worthless. Discover the entrance. Stop being stupid.

Newt was lost and scared amongst the crowds of King's Cross Station with no idea where to go.

Newt was being stupid.

Newt was worthless.

It took almost ten minutes of gasping for the panic attack to end. By that time Newt was sweating and shaking in a small crevice located in one of the pillars he'd found. It had a big 9 on it. It felt rough, like the walls in the cellars at home. He wanted to go home. He was only eleven, he was not old enough to be out by himself, and though he may not be happy in the mansion he was, at least, safe (enough). Right now he had no clue where he was, where he was meant to go or how to get home. The official-looking man had laughed him away and everyone else was in such a hurry that he couldn't possibly ask them. No one had cared that he had not been able to see or breathe. Everyone was too busy with their own lives because no one person mattered in the grand scheme of things. At least not someone like him.

He wasn't going to get to go to Hogwarts.

He wanted to matter.

The epiphanies were a moment of clarity for Newt. The fact that he was prepared to go meant… something, he was sure, but his mother expected him to find his way by himself. If he couldn't do it he would be labelled as stupid, worthless, unworthy of the family name. He needed to find the platform. If he could do this, if he could prove himself, then he was not worthless. If he was not worthless he could build himself into being something.

And it was there, in the bright sunlight of a crisp September morning, that Newt Scamander started to grow a flexible but unrelenting mettle. His goals would be set and he would achieve them through whatever ways possible.

He thought about his problem. He was to go to Platform 9 ¾ and he would not have been sent to the wrong place, yet this was a Muggle habitat so therefore the entrance would be hidden. If he could just believe in himself he was sure to find the magic and be able to use it. If he could believe.

He fell backwards, pulling his trolley with him. The magic felt like warm maple syrup. It welcomed him and pulled him into a new world, a safe one. A magical one that welcomed oddities. He'd found the entrance.

The other station had a great black steam train on the tracks. It was majestic and clearly labelled as the _Hogwarts Express._ Witches and wizards of all ages bustled around the platform. Some were hurrying their children or making last minute checks of belongings. Some were students telling for their friends or hugging their families goodbye. Everyone has a place from variety of parents to the children of all ages clambering onto the train in a great cacophony of noise and joy. It was the sort of atmosphere that made you feel included even though you had not actually stepped inside its exuberant bubble yet. It was the sort of atmosphere that you would forever wish to be part of if you weren't. It was the sort of atmosphere that made Newt feel wholly uncomfortable because he had never been able to fit in with the people that made bubbles like this, that had empathy for everything and everyone or were merely caught up in their friendships. Newt was always the outsider, the only one excluded. He had learnt to stay with the beasts.

Here, though. Here. Here was a new place, one where Newt might just possibly fit in. He could carve a place for himself perhaps. Maybe beside that girl with the long blonde hair and glasses. Maybe beside that short boy with red hair, an extortionate amount of freckles and a confident sneer. Maybe not. Yet it was a whole world of possibilities that Newt had not explored a slightest part of. He was eager to start.

* * *

 **For all of my reviewers: thank you all so, so much. You guys are the reason I keep writing and every time I click on a review it is honestly heart stopping so when I realise that it's a compliment it's just the best thing ever.**

 **For guest B3b3, if you still want to point out my typos and stuff I'd love that, thank you so much for telling me. (I would go and try to sort it out now but the file isn't saved on here anymore so I'll have to search for it.) I do tend to rush the ending of each chapter quite often so hopefully I've managed that better in this one.**

 **Guest: :)))) thank you ahhh**

 **Guest: Newt shall not brag _but_ I promise that he will¿ Or at least someone will brag for him I guess (He's so nice and smol that I don't think he'd brag on purpose but newspaper articles and maybe Tina just going hey look how amazing your son is yeah? He is so much better than you!)**

 **CC: Thank you so much, I really hope that I continue being able to do that :)**

 **Guest: I will. And I will try to update more swiftly as well.**

 **To everyone else that took the time to review I've tried to respond in PMs quite often but if I haven't just know that I am eternally grateful for your support and constructive criticism/commendations about what exactly I'm doing well are just amazing and thank you all so much!**


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